


DECISIONS

by Uuuhshiny



Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: And angst, Crossover, Gen, and death of major character but not for long ;), just plot, majorly just Dean and Faith, no active pairing, so be gentle, some blod and broken bones, this is my first time posting here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:26:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uuuhshiny/pseuds/Uuuhshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean accidently staked Angel on a hunt. Faith's trying to fix this. Mostly Dean and Faith, and blood and broken bones. And magic.<br/>Inspired by No Longer a World of Black and White (tthfanfic.org/Story-11811). It’s sort of sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cakeisnotpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/gifts).



> For Dean it's season five when Sam and Dean are still trying to find the way to beat Lucifer. For Angel it is mostly after series AU, where Angel and Faith are hunting together and stationed in Hyperion.  
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series, they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting like that. Rain began to pour, turning ash to mud… She didn’t realize that she was crying, with hands clenched in fists, crying about how fucking stupid it was to die like that, in the fucking alley, not in the battle – champion’s style, like he ought to… just in the small dirty space between two warehouses by the hand of some idiot, imagining himself as some kind of hero.

She shivered in the cold wind. Angel… He shouldn’t have gone this way; he had thing to do, people to save. They needed him. She needed him. Who else knew her, the real her and excepted what she is?

Faith looked at the gun, still in her hands; she lost him… lost her Angel.

No… NO, NO it is not over! It could not be over! She wouldn’t let it be! She rose from her knees, sliding the gun into the belt behind her back and took out her phone. Strange, she noticed, her hands were shaking… that’s new.

She dialed the only person, she knew could help.

“Willow –”

“Oh! Hi, Faith! Haven’t heard from you for like… how long was it? Six months? Seven? Where are you? Rumors were you’re back in LA, helping our champion? Andrew said that, you remember Andrew? The annoying one?” Willow sounded so happy.

“Will, it’s Angel…” she couldn’t say more, words stuck in her throat.

“What?” Willow’s voice became ice-cold, worried.

“Angel and I, we were hunting this…” She choked up again. “Almost done, finished, and then this smug son of the bitch… He came from behind, only human, I couldn’t… I should have heard him; I should have stopped it! Angel, he… Will, he is gone. Dusted. Not even a body. Nothing,” she couldn’t finish, every word almost physically hurt her. “Angel is dead, killed, Will, I need help!”

The pause was long, too long. Faith caught her breath. She hated to be like this… helpless.

“Red! Tell me what to do? I will do it! Anything…”

Suddenly she felt so angry (which was good, familiar, sure beats the alternative), she ran up to the man, lying on the ground and kicked him hard on the ribs. He groaned loudly still unconscious.

“You, little piece of –”

“Is he alive?” Willow sounded almost surprised.

“Yeah. Knocked him out.”

“Good … good, we may need him, bring him to the Hyperion.”

“What? Why?”

“There is something I could try,” The Wicca said, deep in thoughts, “But it’s difficult, very difficult and dangerous, even for me.”

“What do you want me to do?” Was it a hope in Faith’s voice?

“Look. I’m not promising anything, need to think… Bring him to the Hyperion, I need collect some stuff too, I’ll meet you there in like … four hours, OK?” She paused, “and, Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need his dust…”

Faith felt like she was being gutted. She looked at the spot where Angel was… no, where dust was turning into mud under the rain, near the gutter. Angel was born in a gutter.

“There is not much left…”

“Get as much as you can, Faith! Sorry, but it’s very important. I’ll see you in few hours. Try… well try not the kill this guy, OK?”

“5 by 5, Red, see you in few.”

The man stirred again, trying to lift his head. Faith came to him, unbuckled, pulled out his belt and removed his worn leather jacket. She turned him face down and tied his hands with the belt. He tried to fight; even kicked her once, still a bit disoriented.

“Do it again and I’ll break your arms,” she growled.

This made him struggle even harder. A fighter. She put some pressure on his ribs, which were most definitely broken from her kick. The man groaned louder but stilled.

Quickly Faith gathered what’s left of… the mud into the leather jacket. When she returned to the lying man she noticed red marks on his wrists; he was fighting the bounds. Not so unconscious then. Good. She sat on him, pinning him to the ground. That must have hurt like hell. He couldn’t help but moan with pain, still acting like he was out cold but failing...

“Wake-y, wake-y,” she said, searching his pockets, she sure didn’t need any more surprises. She found a silver knife at his ankle and a set of lock picks. She took a wallet out of his back pocket and checked it (several ID, all in different names). For the first time she really looked at him. He was tall, early thirties, short haircut, almost military and good-looking. She would have hit it hard any other time. His clothes were shabby and cheap, just regular jeans and a plaid shirt. Definitely not how Special Agent Plant of the FBI should look.

“Robert Plant, really? Very inconspicuous…” She said mockingly. Who the hell was this guy anyway? Faith yanked him up, “Come on”.

The man winced with pain and opened his eyes, still not so steady on his legs. “Bitch.” His voice was hoarse. Guess she hit him pretty hard then, both times.

“Oh! And you kiss your mother with that mouth?” She knew right away she hit the spot.

His jaw clenched, “Fuck you.” He looked right into her eyes, challenging her.

“Move! To the car.” Faith pulled the gun out and showed him the direction. The anger returned, old friend. It took almost all her strength not to kill this smug son of the bitch, right here, right now. But Willow said we needed him, and if it could help bring Angel back, she would kiss this sorry ass. Well she’d sure try her best. Taking a deep breath she shoved him on the back seat of her car, gently. She got into the driver’s seat and turned her head back to him.

“You try anything stupid anything at all, I’ll be more than happy to shoot you in the back.”

With that they took off.

 

***

The phone rang as he was about to walk out of the motel room.

“Dean?”

“Hmm… No? It’s Bobby.”

“Oh, hi Bobby…” Sam couldn’t hide the disappointment from his voice, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just thought if you are already in LA, then maybe you could call on some of my… friends and collect one book, I think it could help with our problem, –”

“Bobby, sorry, it’s really not a good time now.”

“What’s going on between you two again? Are you fighting?”

“It’s not like that. It’s just… all this Lucifer stuff and all… Dean walked out on me. Said he needed to clean his head.”

“When?”

“Couple of hours ago…”

“That’s not unusual for him, probably drinking in some bar nearby.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just… I have this feeling, I can’t shake off… But, you’re right, It’s nothing.” Sam rubbed his eyes, the evening just started but he was already so damn tired.

This unnecessary fight with Dean was one too many they were having recently.

“Sam. You are a good hunter. One of the best I know. I taught you myself. What I always told you? Listen to your guts! And if you are having this feeling, you should check it out.”

Sam smiled, “I was just about to. If only there was any way to track him…”

“Already on it. Sending you coordinates.”

“Bobby! How?” Sam knew Bobby had something in his sleeve, but that was quick even for him.

“Planted a tracking coin on you last time you decided to bail on me. It’s in the car.”

“Bobby… You’re awesome!”

“Get to it! And when you find his smack him for me one time, will you?”


	2. Chapter 2

_It hurts to breath_ was his first more or less put together thought. Why was it? Dean tried to gather his memories.

A hunt. A vampire. A woman. Oh, yeah, the chick was smoking! In her low slug leather pants and fierce look. His type, definitely. All dreams come true: kill a monster, save a girl, get a reward. But not with his luck. Should have known better. At least killing part was successful. Dusted this bloodsucker right and proper. Then everything went south, way south. He expected a lot of things from her, freaking out, fainting, running, thanking her saviour. He definitely didn’t expect an overwhelming rage. Didn’t mean he wasn’t ready. He ducked her first blow but missed several others. She could move! A fighter, not trained one, street fights, no rules. Hell she was quick, Xena strong, almost too strong for a human… What was she?

He remembered backing up, pulling out his gun, directing it at her.

“Lady, back off, will you? I don’t know what that thing did to you but I just saved your life here, jeez!”

At that, she launched at him with the fury of a wild animal. It was over in seconds. She threw a few very painful punches, disarmed him and then… nothing, just blackness and major headache.  

A voice came from the distance, muddled at first, then a bit clearer.

“5 by 5, Red. See you in few.”

She was still there then, talking to someone. A code? What, now she is some kind of military? Things they call out these days…

Dean tried to open his eyes. _Bad idea, Dean_ , _very, very bad idea,_ he thought when everything began to spin around him. That was interesting by itself, considering that he was lying on the ground, after… Oh, yeah, she hit him; she hit him with his own gun… _Sammy will never hear about that!_ He thought fighting with dizziness and a spinning world.

He felt her on him, removing his jacket and belt. _OK, what the hell?_ When she pushed into him, binding his hand behind the back, he tried to fight but pain hit him like a truck, stealing his breath and strangely cleaning him mind. Pain was good, familiar, he could hold on to that, as it prevented him from sliding into unconsciousness again. He fought his bonds, which were too tight and held. OK, this “save the girl” plan was going from bad to worse. He needed to think of something and fast, before this Leather Pants came back.

“Wake-y, wake-y,” he heard very close, as if she was talking into his ear. _Fuck_. How the hell did she move so quietly? Obviously she wasn’t buying his unconscious act. He felt her searching him and pulling him up. Fuck, his chest hurt. Possibly a broken rib or two. How did that happen?

“Bitch.” He said almost automatically, too hurt to think.

“Oh! And you kiss your mother with that mouth?” What did she just said? OK now she was officially leaving the “hot chick” category.

“Fuck you.” Dean growled, smirking to cover the wince.

She shoved him into the car, hopped in the driver seat and took off.

 

***

As they were driving in silence across the LA, Dean tried to figure out who the hell that Leather Pants Chick was (he decided to call her that). He could clearly see her in the rear-view mirror, so not a vampire; she wasn’t flickering and interacted with world around her pretty well, so not a ghost. She could handle his silver knife not a shapeshifter or werewolf. Of course she could be a number of other things, he might not know about, but now he was rooting for a demon.

“Cristo,” he said quietly.

She looked at him clearly not bothered by the name of the God.

“Gesundneit,” something that might have been irritation or amusement flickered in her eyes.

Not a demon. This meant that maybe he could talk himself out of this situation. He tried with the best Sammy’s “I care about your feelings” voice, “Hey, lady, listen, we clearly started out on the wrong foot here.”

She wasn’t even looking at him.

“But back in the alley I was trying to help you. That thing… It wasn’t human –”

“Angel.”

“A what?”

“His name is Angel.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. But that wasn’t your friend anymore. He was turned, into vampire, OK? Vampires are real, so is almost any monster you ever heard of. Those things are vicious; it would most definitely have drunk your blood and killed you. Believe me I know, I hunt them. But…” He looked at her eyes full of irritation, sorrow and knowledge, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“A hunter, hm? Oh, hot shot, you really had no idea who were you killing? And you of all men…” she paused clearly struggling with rage.

“Angel is the best thing this city has. Champion. He saved me more than once, and I’m not giving up on him. We are going to bring him back. And guess what, darling? You’ve got a seat in the front row! So shut up, relax and enjoy the ride,” she said with a grim smile, speeding up.

OK, the chick was definitely crazy. May be that vamp gave her something or she was always like this, he didn’t give a rat’s ass anymore. The only thing Dean knew for sure was that there wasn’t any way of talking out of this situation now… He sat back and considered his options.

 

***

Sam found the Impala parked near what looked like an abandoned warehouse. A small rain had just stopped and the puddles were everywhere but not under the car. By this and still warm hood, he’d say Dean stopped here at least an hour before the rain. The car was untouched, magic seals on doors and trunk unbroken. Sam checked for the guns, all in place but Dean’s favourite. And a machete. Made sense as this neighborhood was filled with vampire’s nests and God knew what else. The City of Angels sure had some weird stuff happening here.

Sam had always wondered why vampires, demons and other supernatural monsters flew to sunny LA like flies on honey. It was way too bright for their liking and still here there're more of them than in any other city in US. Shouldn’t they tend to be in Washington or Canada or Alaska even? He once asked his dad about it. Dad said something about Boca del Infierno, Sam didn’t understand then, nor did he now. Not enough references existed. Almost as if they were cleaned from any internet sources or books. Dad also never took any cases in California, not after that job with Jo’s dad. He said it was protected. Sam never knew who protected it, but by the state of the city he’d say they weren’t doing their job.

Sam took out his machete and a gun, warily approaching the open door. Almost like an invitation, he thought. He stood back a little, taking in all the surrounding noises; the silence was almost unnatural for the city, no siren, no screams, no car noises. Nothing. It really began to get on his nerves already wound up by this entire situation. Taking a deep breath he stepped in. The place wasn’t lit but the light of the almost full moon that entered it through the broken windows and holes in the roof was enough to see.

Gun tilted, flashlight tracking, searching for anything suspicious, Sam quickly checked the insides. It was just one big nearly empty space, no partition, no walls, nothing to hide behind; cleaned from any garbage but something in the middle. Unable to see what was there Sam approached the center of the place.

Bodies, parts of them, vamp dust all over, acid splashes and traces of blood. There was a battle there. A big one. Checking surroundings one more time, Sam lowered his gun to examine the site.

To Sam’s relief, none of the bodies were human. Huge, horny beasts with the bull’s faces and acid instead of blood: Fyarl demons. Dangerous, deadly, vicious, stupid, hard to kill. Brawns for hire. Usually paid by someone hungry for power in the ‘rule the world or destroy it’ sense of the word. That explained vamp dust all over. Sam counted about 15 piles, several stakes (not Dean’s), but none of the gun shells. All and all there was little evidence Dean had been there, which, Sam thought, was very good. Judging by the remains, no human could survive this battle.  

Unfortunately it aroused more questions than it gave answers about Dean’s whereabouts. Several minutes later, finding nothing useful inside, Sam decided to check around the warehouse.

The area was mostly industrial with shops and warehouses and storages and dirty alleys between then. In one of those alleys, just as he began to get desperate, Sam found Dean’s wallet, set of lock picks and machete. Pieces of the cellphone were shattered along the wall.

Sam squatted down to have a better look. Traces of struggle were half washed away; no way would Dean leave his favorite machete on his free will.

“Dean!” San called out still hoping for the improbable luck. In the silence that followed the sound of his phone was almost deafening.

“D-Dean?”

“No, Sam, it’s Bobby.” The older hunter sounded tired and worried, same as surly did Sam himself. “News?”

“Car is empty but untouched, there are some evidence of a big fight between at least 7 Fyarl demons and more than a dozen vamps against God knows who. Judging by the remains they used silver coated swords or some such. No traces of Dean being there.” Sam using dry facts in the military formed report told Bobby everything he needed to know about Sam’s condition and how bad things really were. “Found some of his stuff in the nearby alley though,” Sam continued.

“OK, boy, judging by the thin timeslot between those two things I assume they are connected somehow, and who ever cleaned that nest took Dean too.”

“We can’t know for sure.”

“We can’t but I’m sure someone will…” Bobby’s voice trailed off, pensive. “I’ll make several phone calls; I have someone in the area. He’ll know.”

“What am I doing?” Precious time was slipping away and Sam needed to do something.

“Sit tight, return to the hotel, in case Dean comes back, wait for my call.” At that Bobby hung up.

“Hell I will!” Sam yelled into the dead phone, all the irritation, fear and tension slipped into those words. No use in just sitting and waiting. That was one hell of a fight back there, Sam decided; someone must know something. Standing up, he headed back to the car. With Dean still missing or even… (he couldn’t even form this thought) No way would he be just sitting around.   

 

***

She stopped the car somewhere in midtown near a big, seem-abandoned building. There were no light in any windows, which was strange as the building itself looked well-kept. Dean decided to put it into the constantly growing pile of strange and weird he saw this evening. He felt better now, no more dizziness or headaches so he was determined to make a run for it, counting on the element of surprise and a whole a lot of luck.

As Super Girl opened his car door, he launched at her, knocking her off her feet and ran to the nearest crossover, where he heard cars and other city noises. He couldn’t have run more than hundred feet, when he was tripped up and unable to protect himself with his hands, fell flat on the chest and face. That definitely hurt.

“My, my, cherry pie,” he heard her purring into his ear, “I can do this all night.” And of course she was sitting on him… again, “The question is, can you?”

“Jeez, lady, you really need to work on your personal space issues.”

“Funny. Look, smart-ass, here’s the deal,” he felt her hand on his neck, gripping and pushing it to the ground, almost chocking him, “The person you just killed was very special to me, so I’m here, trying real hard not to rip you into pieces. And I _can_ do that. But guess what, today is your lucky day as we might need you. But see, nobody told me that you have to be in one piece. So if you try that again…” Dean felt the barrel touching his shoulder, “I’ll shoot you in the shoulder or a kneecap... Got it?”

He considered his chances: whatever she was, was hellishly strong and quick, He couldn’t outfight or outrun her, not now anyway. This entire “we need him alive” thing at least guarantied him some time to think the way out on this pile of crap, he found himself in.

“Can I get a ‘Yes, Ma’am?” her voice lowered, deepening into a threat. He felt, she was dangerously close to breaking his neck.

“Y-yes, Ma’am,” he said gritting his teeth.

“Good, boy! Now, get up and get in.”

She led him through the main doors. A sign said “Hyperion Hotel”. A lobby was huge but mostly dark, and absolutely empty. There was no one at the reception or anywhere at all. The hotel was absolutely silent. That began to creep him out.

“You know, if you wanted to invite me to your room, why didn’t you just say so? I might have said yes.” He eyed her up and down, “you being so sweet and charming…”

“Keep walking.” She pointed to the direction of small staircase, leading down. A basement. Never a good sign.

Stepping down, Dean looked around, taking in all the details. The room was big, about 50 feet by 60 feet, with no windows and several lamps high on the ceiling. It was mostly empty, except for some boxes and broken furniture in one corner and in the opposite… a cage. _The fuck_?

“I see you’re a kinky bunch… I always said that you have to try everything at least once but, honey, I don’t do cages on the first date.” He said, slowing down nervously.

“Get in.”

“No fucking way!” he stopped short trying to shake off her hand on his shoulder.

“Your choice,” she gripped tighter and practically threw him into the cage. He hit the wall hard.

Dean got so angry at himself for being cornered like that, for letting this situation get out of hand in the first place, for being so helpless right now. So he did what he always did…

“Why do you even need a cage? Oh, I know! You kept you precious Angel here during the day, in-between his night feedings? Don’t you think he’d be surprised to find it occupied? Oh wait… he wouldn’t. Cause I dusted him…”

“Shut up! Shut the hell up! Before I knocked all your teeth out” she smashed into the bars with an unbelievable strength, the iron sang… He backed up.

“You know nothing about of him! Nothing!” she closed the door with the thud, “You, hunters! I’ve met your kind, I was like you once. Everything is black or white, good or evil, monster or man. You are so arrogant, so ignorant… Rushing into things you don’t understand. I hate to break the news to you but not all monsters are evil! You… you… a fucking amateur.”

She was pacing alongside of the cage now, as if she was caged not him.

“Angel, he…” her voice broke. She steadied herself, taking deep breaths, “he was the best men I’ve ever knew. And you know what… You’ll see it for yourself, if we are lucky enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” she was much calmer now, as she looked him up and down considering something. “Come here, give me your hands.”

“Why?”

“Or I can just leave you here with your hands tired up. Your choice.”

Dean approached bars warily, turning around. She unbound his hands.

“So… Welcome to the Hyperion Hotel, make yourself at home.”


	3. Chapter 3

She was so wound up when she came up to her room, so sleep was definitely out of question. She decided to do some katas to calm down as Angel taught her. Faith remembered how she hated those lessons. They were stupid and useless, and weren’t as much fun as a real fight, but Angel could always persuade her otherwise. He was patient, full of knowledge and calm. He was pretty much the only person in the whole world she listened to… Well most of the time.

Two hours later and a bit tired but much calmer Faith went back downstairs. She just couldn’t wait any longer. _Enough is enough,_ she decided, coming down to the lobby and entering Angel’s office. Everything was there as they left it last night. Just a few hours ago. Books all over the table, weapons out of the cabinet, they were ready for everything. Everything but some human hunter getting lucky…

She spent some time watching him on the monitor. The camera was hidden near the cage in the basement ceiling. He was restless too, pacing back and forth. Faith allowed herself to be lost in the rhythm. It’s funny how the things are, she thought, they were supposed to be on one side, fighting the Fright, saving people, killing evil things. He was a fighter. She could tell, an experienced one, as far as he could be for a human. No match for a slayer, of course, but close enough. He had a character, and a nerve, and balls. If the circumstance were different, she would love to try him out… in any sense of the word. Fate’s a funny thing, she thought, and now they are on the opposite sides of the cage… Literally.

With an unnaturally loud pop Willow appeared in the empty lobby, causing Faith to almost fall out of her chair.

“You took your time, Red!” she said a bit irritated.

The Wicca dropped her bags on the floor. They looked heavy, full of books and stuff Faith didn’t want to know about. The air around her was so charged with magic to make Slayer’s feelings tingle a bit… She restrained her urges to find, slay and kill.

“Sorry, Faith, came as quick as I could,” Willow said hugging her, “how are you holding up?” They moved to the office, Faith helping with the bags.

“Ask me, when it’s over,” she sat on the chair her game-face safely on, “so tell me you’ve got something?”

“Well, I almost didn’t.” Willow sounded so tired. “I’ve got help.”

“Really?”

“I’ve found a spell that could work, but the amount of energy required for it was ginormous, to say at least…”

“That never seem to stop us in the past…”

“This is different kind of energy, I’d have to drain people within the mile radius dry from their life energy… Faith I’d kill hundreds!”

“So you are telling me, you can’t help me, Red?” Faith’s voice grew cold, calculated, emotionless.

“No, no, this’s _not_ what I’m saying! I was sitting there, trying to figure out how we could possibly do it and then Cordy appeared just in front of me! Almost gave me a heart attack and, –”

“Cordy? As in Cordelia? Our very own personal PTB? Our sole Protector and Guardian?” She snorted, “Bang up job she is doing helping us, that’s for sure! What the hell, Will? How could she let it happen in the first place?

Faith jumped from her chair, and started pacing around the office, restless and furious. Feeling betrayed more than ever now. Funny thing, she actually liked Cordelia, despite her being all mysterious, cryptic and spiritual.

“Wasn’t she supposed to be all-knowing and hold all the strings to the events that happen?”

“Faith, I’m just trying to explain, –”

“Oh yeah? Then fucking explain it to me because I’m about ten seconds from kicking some Powerful asses on principle alone.”

“I AM explaining it! If you just give me a chance. She said they were not expecting it to happen. The whole Powers are really unsettled by these events. Champions like Angel aren’t supposed to die like that. She said it was a hiccup in the event-horizon of some sort.”

“A hiccup? A fucking hiccup? This is shit, Red!!! Angel is dead and they call it a hiccup!”

Now she was really pissed off. She went to the nearest bookshelf and hit it hard, turning it into debris.

“Those fucking bastards, I’m gonna fuck up celestial asses, collectively, I’m –”

“Faith! Calm down, this isn’t helping! I need you sharp and focused!” Willow said sternly. “No matter how fucked up they are, they’re willing to help, to fix it. Cordy gave me power for that spell of mine. Enough to actually be able to do it. We can bring him back now! We can, _if_ you calm down, I need your help.” Now Willow sounded composed and authoritative. So not like a dorky, unconfident Buffy’s sidekick, as Faith first met her, but like a Head of the Watcher Counselor, which she was now.

Faith exhaled sharply, dropping onto the chair, arms crossed, “Fine! I’m calm. What do we do next?”

“We are going to do a resurrecting ritual, very ancient, prehistoric even. It’s called _Pakibitie._ It’s in old-Slavic, it means _second life_ or _resurrection_. Part-spell, part-prayer to Morena or Mora, the Slavic Goddess of Death. She is also the Goddess of Winter and Change, quite interesting concept behind it …”

Just like that the old geeky Willow came back, Faith thought with the smile.

“Red! Do I look like I’m interested in a lecture? She said amused, “Cut to the chase and get to the good parts of blood and gore.”

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry…” a bit confuses the witch began to take out different object from her bags. Faith saw a big silver-looking basin, carved with strange symbols, old, ancient even, a reaping hook, sculls and a few books, with notes.

“We need to do a ritual in the special circle, drawn with the black coal burned out of a 100-year old oak tree, which I have here. We also need very specific things that are connected to Angel directly. First of all a _Flash of a Childe_ , good thing that I have some Connor’s hair, since Angel asked me to track him down once…”

Willows voice became monotonous, fading out. It was hard for Faith to concentrate on it, so she allowed herself to drift in its waves. It was nice to have someone else to take control. She felt a heavy weight lift off her shoulders. Sounds went quieter, calming down …

“Faith! Are you even listening?!” Willow’s voice was louder and much closer.

She shook her head, trying to wake up; she didn’t even notice falling asleep to begin with.

“Sorry Will I’m just so tired, it’s been a long night. What were you saying?”

“I was telling you what else I need for the spell. She hesitated, “You brought Angel’s dust? We can’t lose any more time,” Willow gave Faith the basin.

“What else?” The slayer poured the contents of leather jacket into the bowl.

“Well two more, very important things. _A Tear of a Friend_ and a _Blood of an Enemy,_ where is he?”

“In the basement, the cage,” she pointed to the screen, “Lock him down. Will, I don’t think that I can cry any more, you should try yours…”

The witch took a basin and closed her eyes, sensing it, “It’s OK, I feel enough in here. Now go get some clothes for Angel and some blood; he’ll need it when he wakes up.”

After a couple of minutes, Faith returned with everything necessary and some extra things she thought they’d need, she found Willow deep in thoughts looking at the screen.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes. Faith, there is one more thing, though…” this time Willow sounded very uncertain, looking at Faith. “Come here I need you to know this.”

 _OK, nothing good ever started with such words_ , Faith thought, sitting down.

“This spell is very powerful, the most powerful thing I’ve ever come across” Wicca sat in front of Faith at the table, “Believe me when I say, that if this won’t work, _nothing_ will.” Willow brushed her hands clearly not knowing how to continue.

“What is it, Red? Tell me! I can handle it.”

“OK, here it goes,” Willow said with the sharp exhale, “this spell will recreate Angel’s body and will find his essence, you know, his memories, character, his demon. The _soul_ , however is another matter. The only thing that keeps his soul and his demon essence together is that Gypsy curse, and I’m not sure, if this spell will be strong enough to connect them again.”

Faith was sitting there trying to understand what the hell Red was driving at, when suddenly the words sank in.

“Are you telling me that there is a change instead of Angel we’d bring _Angelus_?”

“I would say, chances are 60 to 40 not in our favor. I can tell you right away after the transformation, which one it is. But nevertheless there is a chance! If we don’t succeed, there is nothing else we or anyone can do and you know _what_ that means…”

Oh, yeah she understood _exactly_ now what was expected from her. “I’ll do it. If things come to that end, I’ll kill Angelus” she said looking into Willow’s eyes, meaning every word, even if they tear her heart apart.

Heavy silence fell between them full of decisions they would have to make.

“OK. Good. Ready to go? This spell is time sensitive, the quicker we start the better.” Willow took the basin giving a heavy bag to Faith, “Will you help me with this?”

They headed to the basement.

“So Will, why do we need this guy anyway?”

“Have you heard anything I’ve told you about the spell?”

“Well, have I ever?”

Willow took an exaggerated breath, “We take his blood for the initial spell, a lot, at least 3 pints, not enough to kill but close. Who is this guy, anyway?”

“He knows a little about what’s what. He is a hunter.”

“A hunter?

“Yeah, a bunch of idiots that hunt anything supernatural, usually more trouble than they worth.”

“Humans?”

“Like I sad. Idiots.”

“Well that’s just stupid. With no Slayer strength, no magic, they are just cannon fodder.”

“You did pretty good.”

“Well not all of us have a Slayer watching our backs” Willow said with a sad smile, with that they’ve entered the basement.

 

***

The bar was small: several tables, a bar counter and an honest to god dance floor, with disco ball and everything. Air was humid and filled with smoke and sweat of dancing people. Jukebox played Heaven and Hell by C.C. Catch for third time already.

This was fifth bar near the warehouse. And so far nothing. Nobody knew or heard anything about the nest or the slaughter. Sam was becoming real desperate.

“What’s ya poison, beautiful?” The man looked like he came straight from the eighties. And not even good eighties. Feathered hair and a mullet, tie-dyed sleeveless jean jacket over a used to be white t-shirt tucked in skintight ripped jeans. Picked collar, eyeliner and lots of gold at neck and wrists. No cross.

“Just a beer, sir. Everything’s just too damn expensive in the city.” Sam gave a man his best “just a simple boy from Oklahoma” look and a naïve smile.

“Well drinks on me then! Name’s Roy.” man smiled, leaning closer and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Five minutes into a conversation and after several equally bad pickup lines, Sam was letting this Billy Ray Cyrus take him into “a great dig, where you can crash for free”.

“Y’know pretty pals like you should be more careful there days in the city,” Roy continues as they turned into a darker alley next to the bar’s back exit, “not every day you meet a nice guy like me…”

He must think himself so funny, Sam thought with the roll of his eyes.

“Sure thing, mister, it must be my lucky day” he said, stepping first into darker alley.

“Lucky? Oh boy, your luck just ran out.” Sam heard the shift into the game-face at the last words as vamp jumped. Sam was ready and moved to the side. Using the attacker’s momentum, he shoved vamp in the wall crashing him face first. At the same time Sam took him in a police hold, dabbing him with the stake just between shoulder blades. Not hard, just enough to feel.

“Hey, hey, HEY! Easy there, cowboy!” Roy said confused and panicking.

“Listen to me very carefully now,” Sam said, dead serious, “and you might get out of this alley in flesh and not in dust.”

“Yeah, yeah, man! Whatever you need”, vamp almost cried out as stake was pushed a bit harder.

“Fyarl nest two blocks down, what do you know about it?”

“A what?”

“Don’t. Test. My. Patience.” Sam said pushing stake deeper with every word.

“Ok, ok! No need to be so touchy, champ! I heard of them. Nasty scums those Fyarls. Aint have nothing to do with them. The word’s out they’re cooking up another big A. God knows we have plenty of those these days. Something should be done bout them, that’s what I say.”

“Somebody already did. This night.”

“For real? Good for you, champ! Always was rooting for the big heroes!”

Sam loosed the hold and turned vamp to face him. It’s was pretty obvious he did know anything about this nights events. Damn it. Another hour wasted.

“Wasn’t me.” he said turning to leave.

“Angel then? Friends of yours I recon. Yeah sounds like him alright.”

Sam stopped short. Angel? A name or an actual angel?

“You see him you tell him that Roy says hi, will you? Aint doing nothing bad, learned his lesson. Ok?”

“Sure thing, Roy.” Sam smiled, “Haven’t seen him in a while. Where is he crushing these days, I wonder.”

“Hyperion Hotel, of course, that’s his digs now. Everybody knows. Big strapping hero, help the hopeless and all that stuff. I learned my lesson all right. You tell him…”

Roy continued whining but Sam wasn’t already listening. So Angel is a name of some guy that has a reputation for big heroics. Fits the profile. Sam picked up the phone to call Bobby just the get a busy signal. Damn it.

At the mouth of the alley Sam turned back, Roy wasn’t even trying to move still muttering something. With a swift move hunter hurled his stake right into vamp’s chest. He was trying to bite Sam after all…


	4. Chapter 4

One of the lamps on the far corner of the basement was flickering for long three hours now. All his hunter instincts were telling him to get salt and shotgun, which he didn’t have. That was annoying as hell. Dean tried to distract himself, looking around, trying to find weak sports or the way out.

The cage itself was not big, something like 5 to 10 feet, the bars were solid steel, welded together, with no screws and mounted into the walls. They surely could hold an elephant if necessary, or a demon for that matter, even without a devil’s trap. Dean tried the lock again. It was a masterpiece itself. Mechanical and magnetic locking devise plus some serious magic mojo judging by the symbols on it. There were no lights in the cage and nothing on the walls. It was surrounded by a thick red line on the flour 3 feet from the bars, indicating that you should not come closer.

Once again he began to wonder who this cage was for. Definitely it was not for an animal but for a very strong and hellishly clever being, a monster. For certain Dean didn’t want to find it out on his skin.

He started passing again really irritated by the lights and the pain in the rib that became even stronger as he heard sounds from upstairs, voices, becoming louder: two people coming closer.

Dean faced the stairs. He saw two women descending. First one was Leather Pants, the other one was shorter more fragile with red hair, dressed like a teacher or a librarian would. Only her necklace wasn’t _just_ a necklace, he noticed several protecting charms, very powerful. And a big ass silver basin full of runic symbols was a huge give away…

“I see, you brought some company,” he said as they approached, “Ladies, all you needed to do was just ask, I’m all for a new experience”.

“Still funny,” Leather Pants came to the further corner of the cage and took out handcuffs a bag, “Now be a good boy, come here and give me your hands.”

“And why the hell would I do that? If you think I’m just gonna lay down and take it, while you two are doing your big scary demon summoning ritual or something, you’ve got a wrong hunter!”

“You’ll do what I say, ass, because I’m real close to showing you a serious world of hurt. And believe me, pretty boy, when I’m done with you, your ego won’t be the only thing bruised!”

“Pretty boy? Who are you calling a pretty boy, you… pretty –”

“Enough!” Dean could’ve sworn he heard metal echoed in the redhead woman’s voice, “We have no time for this, Faith!”

At that she stretched her arm to Dean, palm first, saying, “ _Levira_!”

The second word came out, he felt a force pinning him to the wall near the bars, a good foot off the floor. A demon? He tried to fight it, but couldn’t even move his limbs. Hell, even breathing was really heard and ribs began to hurt again. Definitely broken.

Both women entered the cage.

 _With the evening going so well_ , he thought, _I’d be surprised if it’s the only injury I’ll get_. At that he saw Leather Pants taking out big old reaping-hook out of the bag. _Naturally…_

“You are not planning on going all black and vein-y on me, are you Red?” she said to the demon-chick, “Cause that would be really bad timing.”

“Just hurry up, Faith, we don’t have all night.”

“Get the hell away from me, bitch!” Dean said through teeth as the brunet approached.

“You should bite your tongue, mister, there are ladies here.”

“Kiss my ass, you wouldn’t be a lady, wearing tiara… FUCK!” She cut his right wrist, deep, too deep, to the bone… Dean felt his blood dripping (scratch that pouring) down into the basin. Once again he tried to fight the hold but in vain. He faced the demon-chick.

“Cristo, you fucking bitch!” She didn’t even flinch.

“Why does he keep saying that? In a car and now here?”

“He thinks I’m a demon.”

“A demon? Really?”

“Yes, there’re demons in Christian mythology; you can say that they are allergic to the name of Christ. They get pissed, reveal themselves and could even lose their concentration for a bit.”

“Well, good thing that you are not one of them, Red.”

He couldn’t believe this. Are they really going to carry on a casual conversation while he was bleeding to death? Which he was, judging by the amount of blood he’d already lost in that time and how lightheaded he began to feel. Gritting his teeth, he told himself _hold on, Dean, just hold on_. It’s not the worst way to die, fucking unfair one, but what is?

“OK, That’s enough,” he heard not-demon chick saying, “Faith, bring the basin over here.” He lifted his head looking at her, as she came to him, still holding her hand high. He felt he was being lowered till his feet touched the ground. She came really close and put her hand on his chest.

“Get off! Don’t you touch me!” he heard him saying, voice week from all this blood loss. Dean knew he couldn’t fight now, and if she released him, he’d fall.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” she said.

 _Year, right, and the Hell is cold_ , he thought bitterly.

“I’m really sorry, but we had no other choice, blood should be taken by force for that spell. It’s very specific. I’ll try to fix what I can now. OK?”

 _And I’m a prima ballerina,_ stubbornly he still was not saying a word. Hell, the fact that he is still conscience, surprised him to no end…

“It may hurt,” she said curtly.

Well, that he believed.

He saw her closing her eyes as she began chanting, “Oh, Mother Nature, give me strength to heal this men, fix the flesh, mend the bones… Fix the flesh, mend the bones…”

Dean cried in agony, as he was literally feeling what the redhead was saying: the ribs were moving under the skin and his veins were on fire. After several agonizing minutes all the pain stopped, no dizziness, no headache, he felt just too damn tired.

“There,” she said releasing him and leaving the cage, “that’s better.”

Confused, Dean tried to follow her, but was stopped by the handcuff that locked his left hand to the bars. _When did that happen?_ After this rollercoaster his legs just gave in and he slid down the wall, sitting by the bars. The sounds got quieter and he went unconscious for a few minutes.

 

***

When Dean came to, he saw the redhead woman drawing a crescent shape and some runes in black coal inside of a black circle in the middle of the basement. Leather Pants (Faith?) was leaning to the wall near him outside the cage, saying something.

“What?” he coughed cleaning his voice.

“I said, are you OK there, pretty boy?” she said drinking from the bottle. He gulped audibly, God he was thirsty.

“Just peachy! Having a night of my life.”

She smiled, giving him a bottle of water. Which he took. If they wanted to kill him, they had many chances to do so. Frankly he was pretty surprised they didn’t.

“And stop calling me pretty boy!” he took a big sip, _so good._

“Well” she smirked, “I don’t know your name, a real one anyway, because Special Agent Robert Plant… Really? You are pretty. And a boy, as far as I can see, so…”

“Dean”

“What?”

“My name is Dean.”

“Really NOT nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Faith.”

They spent some time in awkward silence, watching the other woman taking out four skulls and placing them crosswise in the circle.

“Who is she?”

“Willow? She is a big ass Wicca, strongest I know,” she sounds almost proud.

“Oh, no,” he groaned, “the fucking witches.”

"What do you have against witches?" Willow asked as she stopped drawing and put her hands on her hips and her resolve face in place.

“Well I don’t know… All this “conjuring with the demon” stuff, may be? Or the pathological love of messing with bodily fluids. Or rabbits! What these poor animals ever did to you that they always get disemboweled in the process?”

“First of all – yuck! And secondly – big yuck! You’ve clearly been around the wrong witches! There is no _conjuring_ with anyone! Yes in magic there is a black side and a white side, like in everything. And hell a lot of grey! So tell me who are you so white and fluffy to judge magic by several people that are using it wrong?”

 _The witch had a point here,_ Dean thought. He definitely had no right to judge good and bad, right and wrong… On the other hand reviving the bloodsucker still felt really off.

“OK,” she stood up, “I’m ready to start. Faith under no circumstances you are to cross that circle while the spell is in action. Do you understand me? Just wait till it’s over and I tell you it’s safe.”

“5 by 5, Red, Sir, yes, Sir”, Faith said with the mocking salute.

“It’s like working with children, really.” Willow placed the basin in the middle of the circle and sat near. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

“Ohhmmm,” she started. And just like that Dean understood, well _felt,_ her power filling the room. The ground began to tremble; bars vibrated and sang, lamps swung. She began to chant on the unknown language, quiet at first, then louder and louder as she went,

_“Iskoni, Dnes i Prisno,_

_Oh, Morena, mati mora, mati zimi,_

_Uslish menya, ispolni volu moyu!_

_Verti Vosta Sveta,_

_Verti plot’,_

_Verti dukh!”_

It became noticeably colder, his breath condensed into cloud and the bars frosted. She touched basin with one hand and stirred the content with the reaping-hook still covered in his blood.

_“Krov voroga_

_Slza druga_

_Plot’ chada.”_

The air around her was so charged that several lights exploded with the electrical sparks. Wind turned into a tornado around her, muttering the Wicca’s words. She began to chant even louder and now he could understand some bits.

_“Oh, Morena,_

_Mother of Death, Mother of Change,_

_Hear my preys, grant my will!_

_Return the Warrior of Light,_

_Restore the flesh, find the soul…_

The content of the basin began to bubble, change and grow. Soon it couldn’t be content within. Willow took the basin with great difficulty and spilled it into the circle, never stopping the spell.

_“Blood of the enemy taken by force_

_Tear of a friend, given freely_

_Flesh of the childe, gained unbeknown.”_

The substance hardly looked like blood anymore. It was forming a shape of a human, first bones, then flash and skin. Within minutes instead of bloody mud there lay a man, full 6 feet tall, in his late twenties, very pale and very naked. Dean recognized the vampire he killed several hours ago. He was absolutely still like a corpse (which he was), no breathing, no moving.

Willow made a little pause and opened her eyes as if checking him out. Dean could clearly see how exhausted she was, breathing hard, voice hoarse from yelling. She took a deep breath and continued,

_“Iskoni, Dnes i Prisno_

_Oh, Morena,_

_Mati mora, mati mena,_

_Verti Vosta Sveta,_

_Verti plot’,_

_Verti dukh,_

_Dati zhizn!”_

Tremors increased, the cold became unbearable with the harsh wind. More lights exploded with the electrical arcs between them. Dean really wished he wasn’t cuffed to the metal bars. Willow continued to chant three last phrases over and over again, louder and quicker. Suddenly she conjured a magnificent glowing energy ball in front of her. All the signs on the floor made with the coil burned brightly as she guided the light to the body lying at her feet.

As the light touched the man, the Wicca fell on the flour, unmoving. At the same time the man inhaled sharply and cried out in pain and horror, convulsing violently. A few seconds after he also went limb.

In the burning circle two bodies were lying, breathless, unmoving. The temperature started going up, the wind calmed down. The silence that fell after was almost tangible…

“That went well…” Dean said with the smirk.


End file.
